


It's Fandrall's Idea, Really.

by Dillian



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: And Thor Is More Romantic Than You'd Expect, Drinking, F/M, Gender-Change, Girl-Loki, Gratuitous Use Of Magic, Loki's a Slut, M/M, Perceived Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:26:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dillian/pseuds/Dillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set slightly before the events in <i>Thor</i> take place:  You can't fault Thor too much.  All he wants to do is show his bookish, introverted brother a good time.  But his bookish, introverted brother has other ideas.</p><p>If you click here, be warned:  <i>You</i> know it's not really incest, and <i>I</i> know it's not really incest.  But Loki has no idea it's not, and he's going to go ahead and do it anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Good, Friendly Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thor and the Warriors Three have a _great_ idea.

**I do not own the characters, I do not own the movie rights, and I do not own the comic-verse in which it is set. I am writing for pleasure only, and not for money.**

When he goes out with his friends for the evening, Thor has no real plans.  At Volstagg's suggestion, they make for The Three Tuns near the town square.  It's a favorite with the four of them, not so much for the quality of its wares (although Volstagg, who ought to know, has pronounced the mead “passable”), but for the complaisant attitude of the innkeeper, who always looks the other way when underage Princes come calling.  There, they claim their usual table in the corner, and proceed to suck down a few tankards of ale, or a dozen or so, each.

It's about that time that Volstagg orders the roast goose.  It's also about that time that Fandrall protests.  Eating is “boring”, he says, not enough to suffice as the evening's entertainment for four strong young men.  Hogun, from his seat in the corner, grunts an agreement.  They have to find something else to do with the night, Fandrall says, else he will surely die of boredom, and he looks at Thor:  What does the young Prince want to do, he asks.

After a long day spent boar-hunting, Thor would have been perfectly happy to spend a quiet evening of feasting here at the inn.  His friends are looking to him for leadership though, and far be it from him to refuse them.  “If feasting does not suit you,” he suggests good-naturedly, “then perhaps some wenching?”

“Not for me.”  Volstagg's deep voice rumbles from behind a plate already laden with good things.  “There's only one woman for me, and that my lovely Gunnhilde.”

His “lovely Gunnhilde” easily outweighs him two to one, but that's never gotten in the way of Volstagg's admiration.  He likes quantity in his women, as well as in his food, at least that is Fandrall's theory.

“So your lady's said yes then?”  The blond Warrior sounds pleased.

“Indeed.”  Volstagg nods.  “And has said she will name a date as soon as she talks to his parents.”  He raises his tankard.  “Shall we not stay and celebrate my upcoming marriage?”

But Fandrall shakes his head.  “Not so my friend, for feasting still palls, even for so good a reason.  I like the young Prince's suggestion,” he says with a grin.  “Mayhaps I know just the place for us to visit.”

“It will be you and me then,” Thor says.  “And perhaps ...Hogun?”

The grim Warrior shakes his head.  “You know I find no pleasure in idle dalliance.”

Thor frowns, but gets up from the table nonetheless.  “Is it to be just two of us then?”

“Not so,” Hogun says, “for we will accompany you,” and Volstagg, throwing a quick glance toward the kitchen and his lost goose, nods agreement.

“Not so indeed,” says Fandrall.  “Not if you will help me with an idea I have, Prince Thor.”

\--------------------

An idea?  Say rather a _good_ idea.  A good, _friendly_ idea.  After all, Loki spends too much time in his books already.  It will be good for him to go out and have fun for a change.  Not but what he isn't devilishly hard to root out of the library where he's holed up for the evening.  Thor has to use all his persuasion, and a good bit of his strength.  Finally, the deed is done though, and he and Loki arrive at a certain _other_ tavern Fandrall knows about, where the women are said to be friendly, just an hour later than the Warriors Three.

“I don't know why I let you talk me into this.”  Loki glares daggers at his brother, and brushes at his arms as though Thor's manhandled him the whole way here.

Whereas it was really more like _half_ of the way.  “Come brother,” Thor says.  “You stay inside too long.  You will turn into a mushroom.”

“I was reading a very interesting book about moon sapphires.  It had a spell that used them to open the Gate of Kerash.”

“Fine, fine, yes, whatever.”  Three buxom beauties go past them into the tavern, right as Thor's speaking, and he grabs Loki's arm.  “Come on, hurry!”

Inside, the inn is crowded, and much noisier than The Three Tuns.  Thor is bumped and jostled a dozen times at least, as he makes his way through the crowd to join his friends (keeping a close grip on Loki the while, to make sure his slippery brother doesn't slide right away).

“Thor!  You finally got here!”  Volstagg waves a foamy mug in greeting.

“Welcome.”  Hogun gives him a nod and a steely grin.

“Ah, the Prince has arrived.”  Unlike the others, Fandrall looks in his element, with a brunette on his knee, and a blonde on either side of him.  “Oh no,” he says, “not one Prince, but two.  Welcome Loki!  Please take a seat.  I am happy you've chosen to share the evening with us.”

Loki mutters something that might be about “chosen”, and what that means when you're dragged bodily out of a comfortable library, but he sits, fastidiously neat, at the very end of the table, opposite Hogun.  “You seem to be enjoying yourself quite well with or without me.”

“Not so, I was merely keeping these ladies amused while I waited.”  Fandrall gives his brown-haired friend a squeeze, and ruffles the hair on one of the blonde ones.  “We are here to entertain you tonight, Loki.  I will not count the evening a success until you are having fun.”

“Nor will I.”  Thor reaches out and ruffles his brother's hair.  “It has to be lonely sitting around an empty library night after night.  For once I want you to enjoy yourself.”  He turns.  “Barkeep!  More ale here!  And some ...and some mead” –

As he says “mead”, Loki speaks up and says, “wine”.


	2. She won't bite ...much.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which his time at the tavern turns out to be even less fun than Loki was expecting.

– “And some _wine_ for my brother.”

“Wine for the young Prince.”  Thor doesn't see Volstagg nudge Fandrall of course.  He doesn't see Fandrall look back at him, rolling his eyes.  Thor just sees what he wants to see, and that is a friendly night out with his friends and his brother.  It must be fun, being as unobservant as that.

“It’s good to see you outside the library for once.”  That's his hobbyhorse:  The library is “boring”, sorcery is “a waste of time.”  A real man _wants_ to be out in the mud and the muck, proving himself one-on-one against his opponents.  Never mind if he's half a head shorter than anyone else on the field.  Maybe a “real man” is supposed to grow however big he needs to be to win the battle?  No, more likely this is just one more of the things Thor's never bothered to think through.  “I know you love books,” Thor says, “but it’s good to go outside once in a while and do something different.”

Loki just looks at his brother.  “Your tavern smells like spilled beer and vomit.”

“It smells like adventure.”  Thor gives him a rough clap on the shoulder.  “I know it's not as clean as The Three Tuns,” – Which also smells like spilled beer and vomit, only not quite as strongly. – “but that's what I mean about venturing outside your comfort zone.  Nothing fun ever happens if you just stay hidden away inside.”

He could comment, only what comment is there for _that_?  Where would he even begin?  Then before he can decide what he's going to do, a buxom servant girl bends to put a jug of wine in front of him and plops her big bosoms practically in his face.

Naturally it's startling having a pair of meaty orbs like that come bouncing at you.  Loki doesn't notice when he pulls back, but he does notice when Volstagg nudges Fandrall again, and the blond warrior lets out a snicker.  

“Go along then,” Volstagg says.  “She won't bite.”

And, “ _much_ ,” Fandrall adds, which makes both of them break out laughing.  

The girl's still standing there, with a big smile to match her big, meaty bosoms.  “Brother, say hello,” Thor tells him.  “I think she likes you.”

She looks like she'd like anyone with silver in his pockets ...or a penis in his pants.  Shouldn't the question be whether Loki likes _her_?  But everyone at the table is looking at him and finally, just to get them to turn away, Loki manages to choke out a “hello.”  He tries to keep his eyes on her eyes, and away from the more obvious attractions lower down.

“That's the boy.”  Thor gives him another clap on the shoulder.  “Come, let us toast.”  He raises a goblet of mead.  “To the Warriors Three!”

“Hear hear!”  Volstagg raises his own big tankard.

“And the Princes of Asgard!”  Fandrall lifts his.

Loki drinks, the wine sharp-tasting and strong, nothing like the mellower vintages he's used to at the palace.  When some goes down the wrong way and he coughs a little, everyone at the table laughs again, and Thor pats him on the back like he's a baby.  He offers him his own goblet of mead, as if that's going to be any better.

Down at the end of the table, Fandrall's talking softly with the three women he's cuddled up with.  Maybe Thor doesn't notice, but that's because he and Volstagg are commenting on two other women who are walking past, their generous bottoms swinging with every step, under stained skirts.  Hogun's keeping his own counsel as usual, and it's only Loki that notices the whispered instructions and the shove that come before he suddenly has a lapful of one of Fandrall's extra blondes.

The girl cups his face in her hands.  “Look at 'im!  He's so _cute_!”

\--------------------

Loki's face is a sight for sore eyes when the girl sits down on his lap.  Thor hadn't known his pale-skinned brother _could_ blush, much less turn as red as a tomato in an instant like this.  He laughs, because who wouldn't?  The girl's right, seeing his know-it-all little brother embarrassed like this is adorable.

There's an echoing shout of laughter from his three friends, even Hogun, who usually keeps himself above their silliness, joining in.  Loki's embarrassed look dissolves into an angry one right away.  He pushes at the girl, but she clings onto him like a limpet.

“Give us a kiss,” she says.

Loki throws a glare Fandrall's way.  “This is your doing!”

“Can I help it if ladies throw themselves at you, Loki?”  Fandrall smiles debonairly.  “Give her a kiss.  You know you want to.”


	3. Maybe he favors men too.  Is that really so shocking?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki woos a fair lady, and plots are hatched.

Ugh, it’s exactly what he _doesn't_ want to do.  Women are fine in their place, but he's never felt the attraction toward them that some boys seem to feel.  They're one more thing that doesn't work very well for him, like swords, and war-hammers, and long nights drinking in taverns.  One thing about a library is that the books don't notice when you're less than graceful with a weapon or a flirtatious comeback.  They just give their precious knowledge and leave you to decide what to do with it.  ...But here he is with all eyes on him, and Loki realizes he's got no choice.  He can feel the heat on his cheeks; he knows he’s turning bright red, but Fandrall's girl is swooping in with her lips pursed, and there's nothing to do but ...well, give her a kiss.

Just as he's got this decided, a pair of lips land on his with a smack.  He's going to pull this off, Loki thinks.  For once he'll look like a real man in front of his brother's oafish friends.  Then he feels something wiggling around between his lips.  He realizes the girl is trying to get her tongue into his mouth, and he pulls back with a cry.

By Odin's beard, that's disgusting!  Who does that without somebody's permission?  The Warriors Three are (of course) shouting with laughter again.  The girl gets up and flounces away, shaking her blonde hair and (overgenerous) posterior as she goes.  Only Thor looks like he cares at all about his brother's feelings in all this, and he looks worried (which if you think about it, is easily as humiliating as the laughter).

“Brother,” he says, “what happened?  Didn't you like...” – He throws a look of question toward Fandrall.

“Dagoberta,” the blond warrior supplies.

– “Didn't you like Dagoberta?”

“If she was in a book,” Fandrall just murmurs, and Volstagg, as if he knows what's coming, lets out a spurt of laughter, “perhaps then he'd like her.  It’s not women our young Prince has a problem with, it's just real women.”

Let him think that, yes.  It's easier to explain than the truth.  

Thor looks at him.  “Is that so, brother?”

It's not so, not so at all.  But just the thought of trying to explain to his brother that yes, there are bodies that make him feel excited, they just don't happen to be _women's_ bodies makes him feel sick to his stomach.  Loki feels himself coloring again.  “It's so, brother,” he murmurs.

“Then we must find you a nice _quiet_ girl,” Thor says helpfully.  He looks around, but of course quiet girls, like quiet anythings, are a scarcity in this hellhole.

“The Lady Sif.”  Volstagg nudges Fandrall.

The blond warrior snickers.  “Gunnhilde!”

“Oh no, no.”  Volstagg shakes his massive head.  “My Gunnhilde favors men,” he says, “not half-fledged boys.”

Maybe he favors men too, Loki thinks.  Is that really so shocking?  It's been known to happen.

Meanwhile, his brother's managed to find a stout, older-looking woman.  She looks almost motherly, or as motherly as anyone can look, with their hair full of cheap ornaments and half their bosoms hanging out.  “Wilfreda says she'd like to talk to you,” he tells Loki.

Wilfreda's as old as their mother, and much less well-kept.  Loki looks over at her, just looks.  He turns away almost as fast, feeling disgusted.  But somehow Wilfreda takes this for encouragement, and starts his way.

“I'm not going over there,” Loki says.

This prompts a wave of laughter (of course) from the Warriors Three.  

“Just go and meet her.”  Thor nudges his brother.  “She may not be the prett” – Wilfreda looks over at him with a frown. – “Er, hum, she's stouter than some of the ladies here tonight.” – Wilfreda's frown darkens.  Embarrassed, Thor coughs.  “Ah, what I mean is, men have needs.  Surely you've felt them, brother?”

“What your brother is trying so hard to say Loki,” – Fandrall looks up from the neck he was nibbling a moment ago. – “is that at night, all cats are grey.  You take my meaning I hope?”

“Of course.”  It's time to act.  One way or the other, he's going out of here a winner, instead of the butt of his brother and his moronic friends.  “I'm not a complete lummox like...” – He swallows the words “like Thor”.  If he angers his brother, he'll probably go off and find somebody twice as old and ugly as Wilfreda, and force him to bed her while he watches. – “Like _some people_ I could mention.  You are implying that the fair Wilfreda is less than beautiful.”  Nerving himself, he raises his head and looks full on her round, wrinkled face.  He meets her faded blue eyes with his own green ones, and sees a smile blossom on her lips.  “I should make you apologize for your unchivalrous words.”

“Wilfreda my beauty,” he continues, “what will you have me do?  Shall I stay and trounce these miscreants?”

– There's another shout of laughter.  He distinctly hears Volstagg yell, “I'd like to see you try.”  But Loki keeps his eyes on the prize, and the not-so-fair Wilfreda, who's smile is widening with his every word.

– “Shall I stay and punish them for their insolence my fair one,” he says, forcing himself to look straight into her decayed, gappy grin and pretend he likes it, “or would you rather I buy you some refreshment?”

“Ooh, the refreshment, please!”  Wilfreda wriggles with pleasure. – It is rather disturbing to see that much corseted flesh _wriggling_. – “Let's go somewheres where we can be alone, handsome.”

That, – Loki smiles to himself. – is the idea.  Somewhere where they can be alone and talk.  And perhaps he can work out a trick to show up his brother for once.

“Alone, yes.”  He can be very courtly when he wants to be, all his mother's friends say so.  Is it his fault if he doesn't want to very often?  Loki smiles at the enraptured Wilfreda.  What does she think she's found in him?  A meal ticket?  She can't possibly really want to take him to bed?  “But first I will fulfill my promise to buy you refreshment.”

“Gin, please,” she says, “and tell 'em don't be stingy filling it.”

“The gin will be plentiful in the extreme,” he promises, “and the stinginess will be nonexistent.  And would the fair Wilfreda care for some cakes to go with that?”

“Naw, just the gin.”  She smirks, and gives him an eye-bat that could probably send small children screaming.  “A lady can't eat all them heavy things and keep her figure.”

Oh, Wilfreda, from the looks of it that figure of yours hasn't been “kept” since Bor was but a stripling-youth.  Loki brings the gin, and some cakes despite Wilfreda's protestations, and some ale for himself (because that's harder to muck up than wine) to a shadowed table in the corner, discretely far away from Thor and his friends.  He serves his tawdry damsel with his own hands, and then he asks her some questions.

“The loo?”  Despite her protestations, Wilfreda's eating the cakes fast enough.  Unfortunately, she's talking at the same time, and giving Loki a good view of their masticated remains.  “Ooh, you don't want to go there, lad!  That place stinks.  And you never know when someone might grab you and give it to you up the bunghole.”

Oh, if there's screwing to be done, Loki won't be the one screwed.  Metaphorically, at any rate.  “I am not afraid,” he says.  “If you will just show me the direction?”

She points toward the back door.

“This is the moment when we must part, Wilfreda my beauty.”  He bows, taking his leave, and keeps to the shadows, following the stench-trail that leads to the privy.  There's a new spell he's been studying.  He thinks he's gotten pretty good at it.  With his brother's attention off him for the moment, now's the time to arrange a little illusion for his benefit.


	4. A Humble Visitor, Seeking Rest and Refreshment -- With Prince Thor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Girl-Loki barely has to bat her eyelashes, and she immediately gets everything Boy-Loki wanted.

She walks back into the tavern, and the place falls silent.  Mugs of ale freeze halfway in the air.  The servant girls stare.  Delicately, gracefully, Loki moves forward, one dainty foot in front of the other, her high-cut green dress showing off her long, elegant legs.  Mouths fall open, tongues slip out. – This whole vulgar crowd can't help staring at her and undressing her with their eyes.  Herself though, she has eyes only for one table.  

“Do my eyes deceive me?”  Fandral notices her first.  Of course.  “Did a goddess just walk in?”  

“No goddess.”  By Odin's beard, even his voice has changed!  The low, musical tones of it are lovely even to his own – Her own? – ears.  “I am merely a humble visitor,” girl-Loki says, “seeking rest and refreshment after a hard day's travel.”

Best to be from out of town, yes.  From _far_ out of town, too far for nosy Warriors or over-eager Princes ever to come looking for her later on.

“I stand ready to help!”  Fandrall topples his three female companions to the floor in his eagerness to leap up and do her every bidding.  If he'd known the benefits that came with womanhood, Loki thinks to himself, he'd have mastered this spell ages ago.

“You are too kind.”  Girl-Loki lowers her lashes and looks away.  “But you seem to be occupied.  Perhaps...” – She looks toward Thor, who has by now noticed her too, and is sitting with his mouth open so the flies can go in and out. – “Perhaps your friend?”

“It ...It would be an honor.”  Lummox-Thor.  He is passing intelligent at his best times, but apparently there is something about a woman's company that makes his brains fly out the window.  “How may I be of service, my lady?”

“Some refreshment,” she says. “Is there anything in this place that a lady could drink?”

Instantly, he's up.  “But certainly.  If you will allow me, my lady, I will purchase both drink and sweet cakes.” – Oh yes, those delicious cakes that he last saw smeared all over Wilfreda's decayed front teeth.

“No cakes, please,” girl-Loki says.  “But perhaps a glass of wine.  And I will find us a quiet table.”  She gives just the least bit of a critical look toward the Warriors Three, and right away Thor glares at them.

“My friends were just leaving.”

Fandral and Hogun hop up and start for the door.  Volstagg, after staying to guzzle the dregs from his tankard, joins them.  Truly, the power of a woman is great.   _He's_ been wishing that those three wastrels would go away all evening, but to no avail, but _she_ can accomplish it with just a word.

In another moment, they’re gone, simply gone, and girl-Loki has Thor all for herself.  Acting the lord of creation as he so loves to do, he calls a servant girl and orders her to clean the table.  “Wine for the lady,” he demands while she's still cleaning, and, up to her elbows in soapsuds though she is, “ooh, yes sir, right away sir,” she pipes up anyway.

“Very good,” Thor says with a lordly flourish.  “And see to it that it's good wine, nothing out of the cheap barrels.”

“That was masterful.”  Girl-Loki takes a step closer and puts a hand on her brother's – On his brother's? – On _Thor's_ arm.  “You certainly know what you want.”

Thor blushes a little from the compliment, and Loki, who has never seen him blush before, has to hold back a snerk.  She wonders how far she can take this. – She wonders how far she wants to take this.  It’s quite amusing, but is she going to get into something over her head?

“My Lady is kind.”  Loki feels an arm snugged around her waist, as Thor seats her next to him at the table.  “I wouldn’t be a good heir to the throne if I couldn't be firm when I had to, now would I?”

Brag-brag-brag.  Oh, the ego of him!  “Heir to the throne?”  Loki plays dumb and bats her eyelashes.  “You must make big difficult decisions all the time.  You've certainly learned how to command.  I'll bet lots of women are drawn to your strong character.”

“Oh, I wouldn't say lots.”  By Odin's beard!  Now Thor's the one red as a tomato.  A quick plan sketches itself in Loki's mind:  He'll lure his brother with his wiles, – Up to one of the bedrooms above the tavern?  No, because those are bound to be crawling with vermin. – ...He'll lure him to bed in his own chambers at the palace.  Then right when Thor thinks he's going to do the deed, he'll reveal his true self.  And then laughs will be had by all.

Everyone having a good laugh at Thor's expense for a change is such a tempting prospect that Loki immediately puts everything else out of her mind.  If she can just pull this off...  If she can just make her brother the butt of the joke for once instead of her. – Ah, _him_...  So thinking, she snuggles against Thor's big, broad shoulder, and she looks up into his warm, blue eyes.  “Lots,” she murmurs, “I'm sure of it.”

Thor bends closer.  Loki has less than one second to think, “by Odin's wounds, my brother's going to kiss me!”  Then warm lips brush hers, and she feels her brother's beard-stubble against her mouth.  Loki feels her heart beating faster.  She's not going to like this, is she?

Thor's kiss is gentle, shy almost, and Loki feels her heart beating faster.  She tells herself it’s because she’s kissing a man.  She's always wanted to find out what it's like to kiss a man, for the experience, if for no other reason.  Now she knows.  It feels ...Instructive, she wants to say it feels instructive, but the truth, if she admits it, is it feels good.  And this is her brother.  By all the weapons of Bor, she cannot truly be taking pleasure from kissing her brother?  Loki feels her heart beating faster.  This is what girls mean when they talk about “swooning” in a man's arms, isn't it?  Truly, it is very tempting to relax into a man's strong grip, to curl up against a broad chest and kiss the entire night long.

Thor breaks up the kiss and looks into her eyes.  “Your lips are like honey,” he murmurs.

Like honey?  Could this oaf be any more obvious?  But girl-Loki likes it.  Loki can feel her heart lift, and her lips curve spontaneously toward a smile.  Uggh, his girl-self isn't a walking cliché like his brother, is she?


	5. Hold Me Tight, Let Me Feel Your Strong Arms.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki discovers that girls have _needs_.

“Forgive my rudeness, my lady,” Thor mumbles, eyes half-lidded. “I… didn’t mean to be so forward.”  

“You are the Prince, and son of my liege lord.”  Girl-Loki's starry-eyed look as she gazes up at Thor is quite natural, embarrassing though that is to admit.  “Surely it would be treasonous to deny anything you want?”

“Treason...”  There's a bump against the table, as the servant girl brings the wine.  A pity, Loki thinks, feeling a little distraught; she was looking forward to hearing her brother's attempts at repartee.  She takes a sip from the goblet and sips , enjoying the superior flavor of the wine served to lights 'o love of Odin's heir.  Man-Loki could almost be angry about it, but girl-Loki is too busy enjoying her experience for negative emotions to take hold.  Instead, she just snuggles a little closer to Thor, and raises her hand to stroke his jaw.

“You know I owe you loyalty for more than your station,” she says softly.  

“My lady...”  Spontaneously, Thor catches Loki around the waist and pulls her close for a hug.  And oh, it feels good.  It shouldn't feel this good to be hugged by your brother.  He steals another kiss, and Loki, unthinking, opens her mouth to enjoy the fullness of it.

“Oh my Prince,” she gasps, breaking away.  “Feel my heart!”  Clutching her brother's hand, she presses it to herself, to the place where the flesh swells softly below her collarbone.  What she wants to say, is “ _feel my breast, touch it, fondle it._ ”  Because that's what she wants.  There's a slow, sick feeling of desire crawling through her stomach, and she wants his hands everywhere, not constrained by some kind of chivalric politeness.  “It's beating so fast.”

“It feels just the same to me.”  Thor is slow to pick up the hint as usual.

“No, I am sure it's faster.  Hold me tight, let me feel your strong arms.”  What does she want?  Does she even know?  She wants... – With an effort, girl-Loki drags her mind back to her original plan:  She wants to play a good trick on Thor by fooling him, and then have a good laugh before going back to her – _His_. – own chambers.  Yes, that's what she wants. – Dammit, it is what she wants, she tells her fickle body, as she tries to tamp down its cravings.

“You're beautiful.”  Any other time, she'd be delighted with the look of admiration on her brother's face.  It's exactly the look a stunned ox gets, right before he goes down.  But what he was doing with that mouth of his a moment ago was so much pleasurable, and this is just a lot of boring talk.  “Your eyes, your hair, your lips.”

“Kiss me,” Loki urges softly, and her brother – Finally! – complies.

This time, she is more daring.  “Lower.”  He kisses her chin, her neck. “Oh, lower!”

“But my lady…”  Thor looks at her, troubled.  “I would not show such disrespect.”

What, does he think only men have desires? – This is a thought that's never occurred to Loki before; it is, in fact, almost the first time she's thought of women as having inner lives at all. – She's burning up inside.  The craving is like a sickness.  “I want to feel the touch of your lips on my bare skin.  I want to feel your body covering mine.” – By Odin's wounds!  Girl-Loki is completely wanton.

– Thor seems troubled, but he bends his head obediently and kisses her chest above the neckline of her dress.  It's still not all she wants, but it will do for now.  “There are rooms above the inn,” he suggests tentatively.

“Oh, uggh, no,” she murmurs.  “Can you really suggest it?”

“Forgive me.”  Thor looks at her, abashed at once.  “I should not have been so forward.”

The fool is still wedded to his idea that he is forcing himself on her against her will.  “This inn is so ...public,” she murmurs softly as if shy.  “Is there not somewhere more quiet that we could go?”

And if that isn't obvious enough for him, she's going home by herself and see if she can figure out how women satisfy their own cravings.  

But just when she's about to give up in disgust, she sees a light dawn in her brother's eyes.  “Perhaps ...my chambers?”

“Back at the palace?” she coos.  “Ohhh...”

“If that's all right?  I mean if you don't mind it?  I ...I could ask a friend for loan of his lodgings.”

Fandral, probably.  Oh uggh, she is _not_ losing her girl-virginity in that guy's skeevy bed.

“Oh, your lodgings, please.”  She looks down, trying to blush.  “Do not think badly of me please, my prince.  It's just ...I have never met anyone like you.”

“And I have never met anyone like you either.” Thor looks at her with sincerity in his blue eyes, and a blush – A blush! Had Loki even known his lady-killer big brother could blush? – on his face. “You are so beautiful, so elegant. And I hope you don't think I mean anything but good for you.” He takes her hand, stroking her wrist gently with one big thumb. “I don't want to hurt you or take advantage of you.”

Oh Thor if only you knew: The _taking advantage of_ is all going the other way. “Then ...to the palace?” Loki doesn't feel like she's taking advantage though. It feels the most natural thing in the world for the two of them to be together, and as close as possible. She stands, her knees feeling a little wobbly. Who would ever have thought it would be _Thor_ , of all people, who would make her feel like this? What is going to happen? Is it ...what she thinks is going to happen?

Her brother's ordered a carriage for them, a nice touch that makes Loki feel ...cherished for some reason. She climbs in and curls up in Thor's lap, enjoying the feel of his arms around her, with the clop-clop-clop of the horse's feet on the cobblestones a comfortable reminder that they are almost at the palace. “Are you cold?” Thor's got a blanket ready too. He wraps it around her shoulders, taking the opportunity to squeeze her tight and stroke her bare shoulders. “I would not have any harm come to you, my lady,” he murmurs.

“You're so kind.” Loki never knew her brother was capable of taking such care of another's needs. It's a little aggravating that apparently he shows this side of himself only in female company. It's a good thing that she's going to teach this big jerk a lesson, she thinks. It will serve him right to find out the so-called “lovely lady” he is making all this effort for is really his brother. At the same time though, she can't help regretting the unveiling that is going to have to come. If this is her one chance to enjoy Thor cherishing her like this, she wants to get as much as she can out of it, before it's over.

“We’ll be at the palace soon.” From the sound, they're at the palace _now_. It's been almost a minute since Loki heard the horses' hooves moving. But she makes no protest as Thor cups his hand against her cheek and turns her head so he can kiss her. His warm mouth and his strong arms around her are making her feel ways she never knew she could feel.


	6. Wanton Girl-Loki Only Moans her Answer.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thor reveals unexpected skills, and Loki Silvertongue is beyond words.

They meet no one on their way to Thor's chambers. This is something of a relief to Loki, who was halfway picturing their mother turning up in the hallway. A wise mother knows her son, female form or no female form, and what he's – She's – doing with Thor doesn't bear explaining. Instead, they proceed down the hall in peace, too engrossed in what they're doing with each other to care about hurrying. Thor's hard muscular arms, that hurt so much when Loki has to parry his sword on the practice-grounds, feel nothing but good, wrapped tight around her. That short stubbly beard of his that looks looks like he's showing off how _adult_ he is, feels pleasantly scratchy when they kiss. Loki can feel... By Odin's wounds, they're so close together that she can feel Thor's hardness pressed against her own stomach. It ought to feel wrong, but instead, it's nothing but exciting.

“My room.” Thor fumbles the door open, unwilling to let go of Loki even for such a short time. “My lady, I hope you will...”

He hopes she will _what_ , Loki's not sure. Ignore the mess, probably, because the place is even more of a chaos of discarded armor, and boot-lacings, and sword-polishing rags, than he – She! – remembered. Considering that he was quite willing to bed her in one of the noisome chambers above the inn, it seems silly to take issue with a little mess now, but not in a bad way. Thor is giving consideration to her feelings, Loki thinks, and she feels a warmness in her heart at it.

“My bed.” His bed is unmade (as usual), a tumbled mess of linen sheets and blankets that have come loose at the end, and pillows in wadded-up lumps. As if girl-Loki's cared a whit!

“So comfortable and welcoming.” She drops down, pulling her brother with her. “Like it's owner. But,” – She gives him a look from under her lashes. – “we are wearing far too many clothes.”

“Too many...” Of course Thor's hands to to the hem of his own tunic first, but Loki stops them, Gently, coaxingly, she moves first one, then the other, to the clasps at the shoulders of her own green silk gown. Give Thor credit, he gets the idea. He fumbles, then manages to undo one clasp. Loki feels cool air on her bared breast.

“Ohh, my lady,” Thor barely whispers. Then he bends close. Cool air is replaced by his warm mouth, and Loki can't hold back a squeal.

“My lord!” Such scintillating dialogue, but for once Loki Silvertongue doesn't care. He – She – is Loki Someone Else tonight, Loki The Loved, maybe, or Loki The About To Be Loved Even More. At first Thor's mouth is just there, warm, and wet and gentle. Then he begins to suckle, and she can feel the excitement mounting in her own body. “My lord... Are you...”

Thor looks up just for a moment. “Don't talk.” He gives her a quick kiss, the realization of where else his mouth has been only heightening the excitement for Loki. “Don't say a word,” her brother says. “Just tell me ...Is this all right?”

All right? Can he doubt it? Loki shivers. “Yes,” she whispers. “Please my lord, please don't stop!”

His mouth goes back, and this time it doesn't pull away. Loki feels gentle suction, then the coaxing nibble of his teeth. Her own hands are in his hair, threading through the tangled strands that Thor somehow can never bother to comb properly after his morning bath. She's felt that rough hair of his a million times before, but it's never had this effect on her. She's never felt any excitement at the male smell of him, maybe because it's never been different from her – From his? – own smell. Now it's very different, they're very different, and the difference feels natural. t feels like it makes sense for them to come together, like they're two parts of one whole.

Loki slips her hand between her brother's legs. His excitement makes her heart to go to her throat. “M-my lord,” – She keeps her hand there, only increasing the pressure of her touch a little. – “am I the one ...Do you feel like that because of me?”

“Because of you.” Thor gulps. “Oh, my lady! Will you... Can you...”

He doesn't have to say any more. Loki knows what he's thinking. Her own hands are clumsy as she undoes the lacings on his leather trousers, and she gasps as his manhood springs out fully erect. She's seen it before, surely she must have. They've been changing together after battle practice ever since they were young boys, but it's never had this effect on her. Perhaps that's because she knows what it's going to do this time? ...What she wants it very much to do?

Shyly, her hand steals out. She's touched herself – _Himself_! – here before, but never anyone else. At first all she does is run her finger along Thor's length, and right away she sees him shiver. Excitement is joined by a sensation of pleasure: She has power over him when she does this. What can that power do? There's only one thing she wants of her power right now. She wants Thor inside her. She wants to feel what it's like to be taken, like any wanton trollop. Feminine desire is different from male desire. It's not the urgent ache to possess that she's used to, but a creeping sense of _craving_ , and oh, she feels that craving right now!

It grows with every touch of her brother's mouth against her breast, and every movement of his manhood against her fingers. Nerving herself, she wraps her hand entirely around him. He's a little bit wet. – Not that a man's wetness is a new sensation for Loki, but this is different, because she knows where that wetness is going to go. ...Where she wants it to go. – He thrusts into her hand as though it were his own hand, and this just one more night of boyish exploration.

“Not there,” Loki whispers. “My prince, if you knew how I want to... How I crave the feel of you inside...”

“My lady, I wanted only your permission.” Thor is earnest and boyishly sincere. Normally Loki would laugh at him for it. Cynicism seems so much more appropriate a response to the madness of the world. But not tonight. Girl-Loki feels her heart beat faster when she hears that tone in his voice. It is not the tone of desire only, but that of love. What feelings is their coupling going to awaken, she wonders? How changed will she and her brother be after they finish?

“But I need to undress you first,” Thor murmurs. “And myself too. I would do this right, my lady. You are no common whore, to be used and discarded.” Gently, ever so gently, he removes her hands from his own body. He stands, then takes her hands and raises her to her feet. Loki's body, unfastened at the shoulders, slips downward as soon as she is standing, to fall in a pool of green silk on the floor. With Thor's help, unneeded but oh so pleasant, she steps out of the circle of fabric, and returns to the bed, to lie cuddled in her brother's old bearskin coverlet while he undresses himself.

Loki's heart feels like it's in her throat, it's beating so hard. Her whole body feels like it's on fire. Lying under the warm, shaggy fur, she looks up at her brother's body, increasingly bare in the firelit room. She notices things that never mattered much to her before: His broad shoulders, his lean flanks, the hardness between his legs, that shows as he turns back to her. Thor drops down on the bed, and at once his arms go around Loki. His presses close, and his mouth finds hers again. 

“That was too long,” he whispers and, _oh yes, too long_ , Loki feels her own heart respond. “I want to touch you, I want to kiss you all over.” _Well duh_ , thinks brain-Loki, _what do you think we're here for?_ But all heart-Loki thinks is, _yes!_

Her brother suits action to words. His hands stroke her bare skin, his mouth trails warm fire down her neck to her throat, and then down from there to her breasts again, where he suckles until she's ready to scream from pure desperation. _There's more_ , she thinks, _there's more_ , although she's not exactly sure what “more” there is with a woman's body.

Thor knows though (and in her desire-dazed state, it doesn't occur to Loki to wonder _how_ he knows), and soon his mouth is traveling lower again. Her stomach – Why did no one tell Loki how good it feels to have someone kiss your stomach? – her thighs... When his mouth goes between her thighs, at first she wants to push it away. This is more than she ever expected. – More than she'd realized anyone could do. But Thor is gentle. He takes his time, cherishing her body as though he loves every bit of it, before moving in deeper to find a sensitive place Loki didn't even know that she had. 

“My prince.” It's not a whisper, it's a wanton moan. “My p-prince, how ...why?”

“Shh,” he murmurs back. “Do you really want to know that? Princes can have secrets too.” _Oh they can,_ Loki thinks, her mind growing increasingly distracted. _Yes indeed, they can!_ She writhes and bucks under her brother's coaxing mouth. She grabs at his hair and at the blankets with the same clawed fingers, and she feels herself getting closer, closer to ...something.

When it comes, she can't hold back a scream. Who even knew women could feel this way? Who knew they held this secret in their bodies? Wave after wave of pleasure crests, then breaks over her body. Loki arches her back, wracked with the sensations, feeling a wetness gush between her legs that is certainly not anything people _told_ her that women could do. “Oh, my prince,” she whispers, the Silvertongue again beyond words.

Loki falls back against the bed panting, her head still spinning, and feelings sparking all through her body. This was potent enjoyment indeed, but with Thor still there, there's still more to come. – Somewhere at the back of her mind, she wonders how Thor came to know all this; where did he get the skills he has just shared with her? But it's far away. How can she focus on that, when her lover is coming at her again, and she can taste herself on his mouth? 

Thor's whole body covers hers. Loki can feel the strength of his muscles, the hardness of his manhood against her own body. “My lady,” he whispers, “are you ready?”

Ready and more so! Wanton girl-Loki spreads her legs for him, moaning her answer. “Yes, and quickly, my lord. I want you. I want to feel you inside me.” There's no lie there, it's the simple truth. Trickster-Loki has flown off somewhere, leaving an abandoned creature, aflame with lust and wanting only to be satisfied. Her hands go to her brother's hips of their own bidding. She's not just waiting for him, she's inviting, encouraging him in. And Thor complies. He moves a little and finds her entrance, finds her already wet and ready after all his kisses, and he thrusts, he thrusts hard. 

There is a little bit of pain, – Boy-Loki's inexperience is mirrored in girl-Loki, both of them untouched until today. – but it is over quickly, and Loki feels the new sensation of a man inside her body. It is a pleasing feeling just by itself. Then he moves and she discovers there are whole new ways of being pleased. It's like there's a whole world inside her, just waiting to be touched and awakened.

“My lord,” she whispers, “oh my lord!” 

And, “my lady,” he whispers back, the inane dialogue somehow more appropriate to this situation than any of Loki's cleverest words would be. 

After that, there is no talk, and no noise in the room except the soft moans and the creaking of the bed-cords that comes with their coupling. Under the warmth of the old bearskin, Thor is tireless, and Loki is welcoming. Both of them seek their own pleasure, and in finding it, they find each others'. Climax comes, but both of them are too intent on exploring the other's body to stop. The night is a blur of tangled limbs, and beard-scraped lips, and pleasure deeper than Loki ever knew existed, until finally, finally, exhaustion claims them both.

Thor falls asleep where he lay. One minute he is a responsive, affectionate lover, the next minute, with no pause for transition, he is a warm lump of golden hair and snores. Loki has just long enough to feel a twist of affection for him, a twist that strangely, seems to come _because_ of his lumpish insensibility. Then she is asleep too, her dark head pillowed on her brother's strong right arm.


	7. People are Going to Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki dodges embarrassment, and Thor is disappointed.

After such a late night, morning should come late too. The last thing Loki wants to do, is get out of bed at dawn. But she's a light sleeper. She's jostled awake when her brother stirs, and as she lies there trying to will herself back into slumber, and she realizes that if she's not careful, Thor will find her here. No names were exchanged last night, and that was all right. Both of them were way too eager to worry about the requirements of custom. That's not going to work in the cold light of morning though. Thor's going to have questions, and how is Loki going to answer them?

Giving a little squeak, Loki hops right up. Still in bed, Thor rolls over again and murmurs. For a moment she's afraid her small noise has woken him, but then he settles back into slumber again. Loki smiles to herself. He looks awfully cute lying there with his blond hair tumbled and his legs tangled in the bearskin, she thinks. Then, realizing she's just thought of him as “cute”, she turns away quickly and sets to getting dressed so she can leave.

Her clothes are scattered far and wide throughout the room. Loki gathers them, a shoe here, her dress there, the two brooches that clasp it at the shoulders in two more places. In her hurry, she fails to notice the silk stockings lying under the bed, covered by Thor’s trousers. A quick toss of her head to tidy her hair, and she's ready, and halfway out the door before it occurs to her: There are going to be questions if people see a strange woman with dark hair coming out of Thor's bedchamber. People are going to wonder, and some may remember that his dark-haired brother has shape-shifting abilities. Loki swallows.

A few muttered words and a quick pass of her hands solve the problem. The servants think nothing of course, when they see boy-Loki coming down the hallway. They merely bow as always, and make way for a Prince of Asgard. Loki passes with his head high. – It is normal to ignore the presence of servants. – He makes his way to the library, his usual destination early in the mornings. And of course there is no one there to remark upon the fact that instead of reading the book he takes from the shelves, he just sits with it open in front of him, and stares into the distance, dreaming.

\--------------------

Thor wakes late. It was a _good_ night, a very good night. He rolls over, and right away he puts out his arm to draw his lady to him. His hand touches empty sheets. What is this? She's not there? He gropes, his mind, still sleep-dulled, telling him that he just hasn't reached far enough yet. It's only when he can feel himself starting to fall out of bed that he accepts the truth: She isn't there. And then his first thought is to sit up and tell her to come back to bed.

It's full light outside. No doubt Sif is already at the training-ground. He ought to be there himself, but he'd thought to go late this morning, to have time to kiss his lady and tell her he loved her one more time. And so why is she not here? Thor frowns, confusion and disappointment warring in his mind. He can still see her in his mind. Almost, he can still smell the spicy fragrance she wore, so different from the odors he's used to. She was a rarity, someone special, – and so elegant! – who was interested in him for who he was, instead of just for his position. 

Heavily, he gets up. He puts on his tunic. Half unaware that he's doing it, he's looking around, searching the room to try and find some token to remind him of his mysterious lady. There are his trousers on the floor, lying atop the tangle of his boots. Thor picks them up. He sees a flash of green under the familiar brown fabric he normally wears, and he feels a surge of excitement. His lady was wearing green. 

But all he finds under the trousers is a pair of his brother's socks. Disappointment hits, blocking the surprise that is also there. Isn't it usually him who leaves his things in Loki's room? Slamming his door open, Thor calls down the hall: “Loki, you left your stuff in my room again!”


End file.
